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by jonsastan (lilzipop)



Series: Jonsa Week [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Smutty, in ye olde days we'd call this a lemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 00:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilzipop/pseuds/jonsastan
Summary: Sansa had been kept waiting much since her coronation. Since the crown rested on her head her orders, when not anticipated, were followed swiftly and to the letter. Now she paced the familiar chambers of the Lord Commander, waiting.Jon always kept her waiting.- - - - - - -Jonsa Week - Day Three: Winterfell - King’s Landing - {Castle Black}
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548010
Comments: 9
Kudos: 146
Collections: JonsaWeek2019





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**Author's Note:**

> Day three of Jonsa week and I used the prompt "Castle Black".  
> Please forgive my mistakes, my work is unbeta'd.

Sansa had been kept waiting much since her coronation. Since the crown rested on her head her orders, when not anticipated, were followed swiftly and to the letter. Now she paced the familiar chambers of the Lord Commander, waiting. 

Jon always kept her waiting. Ever since she had begun her annual pilgrimage to Castle Black the year of her coronation, she would be greeted by a brother in black who would bow and offer apologies from the Lord Commander.

“He went hunting at dawn.” “He is treating with the Free Folk.” “He is yet to return from ranging.” 

And every time she would nod, and smile, and offer the supplies she had brought with her before moving to his chambers. 

He rarely kept her waiting more than a few hours. 

He would shuffle into the room, pulling gloves and furs from his body. Despite the arrival of spring the True North still felt the nip of winter. He did the same now, Ghost following closely. The wolf crossed the room swiftly and rubbed against Sansa’s legs.

“Your grace.” He said, placing his furs on the table. 

“Jon.” Her tone was half greeting, half scolding.

“Sansa.” He replied, his mouth quirking into a half smile.

“How fares the North?” She asked, stroking Ghost’s head.

“Well. Cold.” She heard him move and knew he was moving toward her. “How’s Winterfell?”

“Lonely.” She answered honestly. Whilst rarely being alone Sansa felt almost as lonely in her home now as she had a child in King’s Landing. 

_And Jenny would dance with her ghosts_. 

Bran was gone. Arya was gone. Father and Mother and Robb and Rickon were gone. Theon was gone. All ghosts and yet not a one to keep her company. 

“Sansa.” He muttered, his tone between an apology and reproach. She faced him and felt Ghost move away from them. “Sansa.” He repeated. 

She moved, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her lips finding his in dance that become familiar over the last few years. His hands came to her waist and pulled her close. Her fingers went to unlace his leather jerkin and they moved with nimble efficiency. 

She heard Jon moan into her mouth as her fingers traced his collar bone. 

“Gods Sansa.” His own fingers were working on the laces of her gown, his lips tracing the curve of her jaw. “Gods I’ve missed you.” 

She whimpered as his teeth nipped her ear. They pulled away for a moment as Jon’s shirt was removed and the bodice of Sansa’s dress was lowered to her waist. Jon followed the fabric with his lips pressing to every inch of her skin he could reach. 

“I missed you. I missed you. I missed you.” He pressed the words into her skin as he worked her dress off of her body. She pulled him back to her, her lips returning to his and she felt like she could breathe again.

“I need you, Jon.” She said, her own hands working at her corset, her shift. His hands joined hers and soon she was free from the corset. They walked backward and Sansa felt the back of her knees hit Jon’s small bed. She sank down on the uncomfortable cot. Jon knelt before her, his hands ran down her legs and up under the shift. His fingers carefully pulling the ribbon free from her stockings before rolling them down and off. He began to kiss his way up her legs and Sansa’s heart fluttered in anticipation. 

His beard brushed rough and tantalising against the soft skin of her thighs as his lips pressed into her flesh. 

“Jon.” She almost whined. She felt him smiled as he pressed his mouth to her centre. She’d felt so embarrassed the first time Jon had done this, but now she craved it. This was the thought, the memory that awakened a hunger in her that caused her fingers to wander down between her thighs on cool nights and lonely days. 

Soon Sansa felt her muscles tighten, her toes curled, and her fingers tugged on Jon’s hair. He wiped his face on her shift before moving it up her body and over her head, chucking it behind him. He stood before her and her fingers worked quickly at the laces of his breeches. She pushed the fabric down over his hips before taking his cock and pumping her hand over him a few times before wrapping her lips around the tip.

“Sansa.” He moaned, his head falling back, he hand coming to rest gently in her hair. “Gods Sansa.” She sucked and enjoyed the sound he made. “Sansa, I need you.” He said, pulling away from her. 

“I need you too.” She replied, moving to allow him to rest between her legs, his arms coming up to bracket her head. Jon kissed her and her hand wandered down between them to grasp his cock. She guided him to her entrance, rubbing his tip through her wetness before positioning him in the right spot. 

With a snap of his hips Jon was sheathed inside her and their moans mingled in the air. Jon set a pace that drove Sansa wild. Fast enough to build desire, but slow enough to draw it out. She pressed kisses into his jaw and neck before wrapping her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his arse. 

“Oh Jon. I miss you.” She whispered “Please, Jon. Please come home.” He made a sound at this somewhere between a moan and a sigh and his pace between her legs increased. 

Sansa continued to press kisses to his shoulder and his neck and between each touch she muttered a phrase that sounded both a wish and prayer. 

_Come home. Come home. Come home._

Soon the climax was building so quickly and so strongly that Sansa couldn’t form the words anymore. Her hands trailed up Jon’s back, her lips still pressed into him 

“Sansa.” He whispered into her ear right as her body convulsed in ecstasy. His own peak followed soon after.

They lay in each other’s arms for a while, Sansa’s head resting on Jon’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her holding her close, her hand resting over the scars and his still beating heart. 

“Did you mean it?” He asked 

“Hmm?” Sansa hums half in doze. 

“Come home?” 

“I always mean it.” Sansa saw the official pardons and the personal letters she had penned herself clearly in her mind's eye, both of which had been ignored at first before being politely responded to.

“I’d like to.” He said, burying his nose into her hair. “I’m ready now.” 

She moved until she could meet his gaze, those solemn grey eyes that looked almost lavender, but always Northern. 

“You’ll-” The question stayed on her lips as if she did not speak it in the heat of passion then it would not hurt when he would not come with her. 

“I’ll come home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are my bread and butter! :)


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